Chapter 7

Dean skidded across the hardwood floor into the sparse room, his eyes locked on the tall, gaunt man before him. Dan whirled around at the sound of a voice calling Sam's name but Dean was barely aware of the other man's presence as he advanced toward his brother.

There was no mistaking this was his brother standing before him. He was bruised and worn around the edges, but still upright. Still breathing. His own heart stuttered with joy and relief. He knew it! Had known it all along. His Sammy was alive!

He continued to stare at his brother, his Sam, with complete attention. He soaked in every little detail. The skin that was far too pale stretched over a face grown even more haggard. Ill fitting clothes hanging off a frail, bony frame. The way his right arm was cradled against his body. Eyes stretched wide, peeping out from under shaggy bangs, filled with shock.

Sam wavered on his feet and when Dean moved forward to support his brother this stranger, Dan, placed himself protectively between the brothers.

As if he, Dean, was somehow a threat.

Dean grew lightheaded and drew overdue oxygen into his lungs before speaking. "Damn, Sammy. I've been looking all over for you. Are you okay?"

He knew his brother wasn't okay but he waited for some sort of sign from Sam, something that would remove this imposter out of his way so that he could touch his brother. He needed to prove to himself that Sam wasn't a mirage or some figment of his imagination.

But Sam flinched at the sound of Dean's voice and shuffled backward, out of his reach. Sam's usually clear, intelligent eyes were clouded with doubt and his trademark dimples weren't flashing at Dean.

It was as though Sam was looking at a stranger when he looked at Dean. And not just any stranger but someone he distrusted.

He made his arms drop to his sides and tried to reason through what was happening but confusion reigned. "Sam? It's me, Dean. I've been looking for you since the explosion."

He side stepped the obstacle in his way, Dan, and his right arm reached out of its own volition, stretching forward until his hand brushed Sam's left hand. His brother immediately jolted, yanking his hand away from Dean. He inched backward until his back was pressed flat against the wall.

Dean was trying to come to terms with what was happening but he couldn't keep his distance any longer. He surged forward and clutched Sam's upper arms, drawing him forward until he rested against the protection of Dean's chest and in his sheltering arms. He'd known in his heart that Sam was still alive but had been afraid to hope; Winchesters and hope didn't have a great track record.

He felt Sam resist but he lacked the strength to pull away from Dean. Instead his brother held his body taut. Aloof.

Dean awkwardly rubbed his brother's back, tracing lazy circles against the stiff back. After a few seconds it all felt natural. He'd comforted Baby Sam this way hundreds of time.

But Sam wasn't having any of it. He was locked rigidly in Dean's embrace and Dean felt rather than saw what happened next — his brother's dead weight crashed against him, the once unyielding limbs suddenly loose.

Dean sagged to a knee as he guided Sam's body to the floor in a controlled fall. He supported Sam's neck, his hand sliding through the long locks as his brother's head bobbed limply back.

Sam's eyes were fixed and staring, the pupils having eaten all but a slight ring of color. His mouth was slack and his breaths panted through blue-tinged, parted lips.

"SAMMY?!"

-0-

Sam felt nausea build until the burn of bile settled in his esophagus. He pushed off the bed and made for the doorway, intent on making it to the bathroom before his stomach spewed its contents. He tripped over a discarded shoe and fell heavily to the floor, bruising his knee against the unforgiving surface.

The pain in his knee overtook the need to vomit as his biggest priority and he sat back, holding his knee, as he waited for the sharp agony to turn to a deep throb. As he massaged his knee he saw Dan hustle into his room, blue eyes bright with panic.

Strong hands wrapped around his left arm and tugged him upward until he was on his feet. Dan's concern radiated in waves as words started burbling out of him. "Nick, are you okay? I don't know how to tell you this but there's a man downstairs claiming to be your brother. I told him you weren't here but do you have a brother? Is your real name Sam?"

Nick numbly stood there as Dan's words washed over him. Before he could try to communicate with the man before him, he heard a name ricochet into the room from the hallway. "Sammy?!"

A blond man, taller than Dan, but just as rangy and looking equally harried pushed into the room. Concerned eyes locked on his own and for a moment he felt comforted.

This feeling was supplanted by fear and he wavered on his feet, blinking to clear his eyes and ease the ache pounding across his temples. His left hand started to lift and travel toward his head but he refused to give in to the weakness. Instead he planted his feet and determined to stand his ground. His right arm throbbed and he drew it across his body unconsciously.

The man was so familiar yet he couldn't place the memory. If there was, indeed, a memory. As the stranger made to move toward him, Dan placed his body in front of Nick's in some misguided notion of protection; he could tell as he sized the man up that Dan was no match for him. This man radiated strength. And danger. Nick warily watched him, waiting to see what he'd do next.

The man paled considerably and freckles stood out across his nose and cheeks. "Damn, Sammy. I've been looking all over for you. Are you okay?"

He flinched at the raw emotion in the stranger's voice. Another unaccounted feeling of comfort washed over him again. Just as quickly unease flooded through him. This man looked at him like he expected something out of him. Like he should know him.

He slid backward in an effort to distance himself from this man. He didn't trust himself to judge whether this man meant them any harm. And he certainly didn't want to be the cause of trouble for Dan, someone who had tried to help him repeatedly.

The man's arms flopped to his side and his face scrunched up in confusion. Maybe it was a simple case of mistaken identity. Maybe this guy thought Nick was someone else. Then he heard the low rumble of concern. "Sam? It's me, Dean. I've been looking for you since the explosion."

Dean?! This was Dean?! His feet were rooted to the ground while he watched with detachment as the man pushed around Dan and reached out to tug on Nick's uninjured hand.

The contact was electric and he jumped back, pulling his hand away. He stumbled away until he felt the wall push back. His vision began to blur and his breathing accelerated. He needed to get away. He didn't know what exactly had happened, but in his visions or nightmares or whatever they were, Dean had him put in a straight jacket. He couldn't trust him. But his head was throbbing in time to his heartbeat and he was beginning to see black spots dancing in front of him.

Hands tightly gripped his aching arms and he was drawn inexorably forward until this man, Dean, held him locked in his arms. He tried to resist but his energy was flagging. He allowed himself to be cradled, just for a moment, and felt a warm hand rubbing his back.

These weren't the actions of a madman, were they? Why was this Dean trying to comfort him? His resistance started to flee as he gave in to the humanity of the soft touch.

A sharp pain hammered his head, stealing his breath away with its intensity. He couldn't remain upright. He couldn't think. He sank forward, giving in to the pull of gravity.

Asher stood before him, yellow eyes flashing. Something deep inside of his head grated, like a key turning in a rusty lock. Pressure built to a crescendo until he thought his head would explode. The pressure gave way as his surroundings shifted . He could finally see clearly. And with clarity. He knew what he needed to do and his brother would be his strength.

-0-

Dean refused to let go of Sam and instead clutched him to his chest. His brother's breaths were bursting from his blue lips in an irregular hitching pattern. He cradled his brother closer in an effort to lend him stability; he willed his brother to just breathe, breathe, breathe.

Instead his brother continued to stare at a point over Dean's shoulder while fine tremors pulsed through his frame. They were mild to begin with but quickly shifted to full on quakes that made Dean cling to him with all of his strength to reduce the bucking and bending.

Seizure. His brother had to be suffering some sort of seizure. But then he looked into Sam's dilated eyes and recognized the expression — his brother was having a vision. And if it didn't stop soon his brother wouldn't survive it.

He shifted and jostled Sam until he rested fully against Dean's left arm, burns and all, which throbbed at the abuse. Ignoring the discomfort he grabbed Sam's chin with his right hand and angled it away so he wasn't staring at the same point in the hope that the contact and movement would break the vision's hold. No such luck.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Dean started stroking his hand across Sam's clammy brow and then through his sweat-tangled hair. "Come on, Sammy...Don't do this...There's so much I have to tell you...Are you listening to me?...I...you just have to come back...You can't leave me alone...And I can't face what Dad told me before he died...It's about you...Sam, you need to snap out of it...I need your help Sam...I need your strength...Don't leave me again."

The words ran out of Dean in a torrent. He didn't even know what he was saying but he wanted, no needed, to convey to Sam how much he meant to him. He couldn't go on without him. He'd discovered that after John Winchester banished Sam from their lives when he chose to go to college. Dean had motored through life without Sam, rudderless, without purpose. Just going through the motions of living.

He continued to stroke his hand through Sam's hair in a smoothing motion even while his murmurs of reassurance and pleadings finally dried up. He didn't think he was having any affect until Sam's eyes widened with a gasp of pain before his lids lowered to shutter his eyes. Sam's whole body relaxed — the tremors abated, his breathing evened out, and he appeared to be sleeping instead of fighting for his life. His brother may have passed out but at least the color was returning to his face. And he no longer fought to escape from Dean's hold.

It took a moment but Dean's own breathing slowed from an adrenaline infused gallop to a normal rate. He was shaky and nauseous after what he had witnessed but he'd found Sam. That was the important thing.

Someone cleared his throat to gain his attention. Dan. He'd forgotten the other man was even in the room but he made his presence known now. "What do you need me to do? Do you want me to call an ambulance? I should have called 911 already but everything happened so fast, I couldn't think. Is he okay?"

Dan's face had paled and he also appeared stricken by the events. But at least he no longer looked at Dean with hostility. Dean decided to take advantage of the change in attitude. "He's better, I think. Is it okay if I move him to the bed? He had a really bad experience in the hospital recently, just got out in fact, and it's the last place the kid would want to be right now."

Dan moved over to the bed with a purpose, yanking the covers back and smoothing out the pillow. Dean levered his arms under Sam's pliant body and hoisted him into his arms before depositing him gently against the sheets. He took a moment to straighten Sam's arms and legs and settle his head more firmly on the pillow before drawing the covers up. His eyes briefly met Dan's who stared back from the other side of the room.

Dean dropped down on the edge of the bed and held Sam's left hand between his own before seeking out and timing the slow thud of his brother's pulse. He should call Bobby or do something, but right now he only had eyes for Sam. He couldn't even make himself let go of Sam's wrist after taking his pulse; he needed that contact to assure himself that Sam hadn't disappeared again.

Despite his size, Sam looked impossibly young and fragile as he rested on the bed; Dean knew he had inner strength and was relying on that to get his brother through this latest setback.

TBC

A/N: At least the brothers are back together. I know that's how I prefer to see them. Thanks for reading and if you've left a review, that goes double for you.